Gemotions

He found himself pacing the worn wooden floorboards, his bare feet cold against the grain. Every day, the silence of the house felt heavier, pressing down on him. Sunlight sliced through the dust motes dancing in the air, illuminating the emptiness. He'd seen the photos, read the grim details. A robbery gone wrong, a life extinguished in the very spot where he now ate breakfast.

A wave of nausea washed over him, a physical manifestation of his unease. He ran his hand over his forehead, trying to clear his head. He reached for the phone, then stopped. He couldn't bring himself to talk to anyone, not even his sister. The words wouldn't come out right. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of unspoken things.

He went to the window and stared out at the street. The other houses seemed so normal, so full of life. His house was different. It was a tomb.